


I Lived.

by theicarustheory, WanderingTiff



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Child Star Jean, M/M, Single Parent Jean, they work at mcdonald's too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicarustheory/pseuds/theicarustheory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingTiff/pseuds/WanderingTiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former child star Jean Kirschtein thought that he knew exactly how life worked. But at age sixteen, he quickly realizes that the real world is nothing like Hollywood. The now broke, disowned, technically widowed single father finds a way to earn his keep in the cold cruel world of Los Angeles while trying to support his young son.<br/>Out of some twisted miracle, his friend Eren finds him a job for a TV show where he now works along with his job at a fast food restaurant.</p>
<p>Marco Bodt was fresh out of college when he realized that opportunities will not always come knocking at his door. It takes his boyfriend getting a job at this same TV show when he finally slides through the cracks. And meet his childhood idol, to quickly realize that he is probably the strongest man he had ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When I Grow Up...

**Author's Note:**

> So... Here is my latest project. I wanted to start it in the spring, but I was so inspired that I couldn't wait any longer!
> 
> theicarustheory and I created this AU together, which is why I put her down as a co-author. We both have high hopes for this AU, and we hope that you'll like it!

_But I ain't complaining._  
 _We all wanna be famous.  
_ _So go ahead and say what you wanna say._

 _You don't know what it's like to be nameless,_  
 _Want them to know what your name is.  
_ _'Cause see, when I was younger, I would say:_

 _"When I grow up, I wanna be famous,  
_ _I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies..."_

_Be careful what you wish for, 'cause you just might get it._

_\- When I grow up,_   The Pussycat Dolls)

* * *

 _The fast food restaurant was teeming_ with anxious, hungry people. The sights and sounds were all too familiar for the two-toned blonde standing right by the entrance with signed paperwork in his hand. He was rather young, almost twenty-two, and this was probably his tenth time looking for a new job in the last six years (he lost count after a while). But each job was the same; his last resort. He needed a place to work, and he wasn’t going to rest until he finally found a stable job to support himself.

He was being watched. One of the employees at the front counter noticed him staring out into space towards the value menu. That just so happened to be what his line of focus was.

“I can take your order, Sir.”

That took him out of focus. He shook his head and looked up. “O-oh I’m not ordering.” He cleared his throat. “I… I was actually here to hand in my W-4. I applied to work here.”

“Okay. Let me call my boss over here.” The employee gave him a small nod and looked towards the back. Probably where the lobby was. “Hey, Levi!”

It took a couple moments before the man heard grumbling coming from the back. A man that was probably a head and a half shorter than he was came over with a file in his hand. He looked at his employee. “Mina, what seems to be the problem?”

This employee--Mina--turned her head to him. “He has his W-4. ‘S this the new guy you were talking about the other day?”

“Guess so,” he shrugged and then took a good look at the stranger in question. “The spitting image of the little kid? Yep.”

“Weird…” she mused. “Well, this place is like, one of the one-stop places for young actors to have a side job, so I’m honestly not surprised.”

The statement made the blonde flinch. It was probably true that some young actors worked here, but… that was not a label he really wanted. Or liked. It was too personal.

“So, what’s your name?” Mina asked as Levi held out his hand to take his paperwork.

The stranger did so out of reluctance. He sighed and mumbled so softly that it was hard to catch with the sound of a grill clam opening the background. “Jean Kirschtein.”

\--

 _Everyone knew the cute little brunette_ that sat at the too small breakfast table and saw a computer generated tiger in his kitchen. Everyone knew the surprise on that boy’s face as he ate his Frosted Flakes and suddenly felt _“Grrrreat!”_ while exclaiming “Thanks, Tony!” Everyone knew the youngest brother of the Truman Family on ABC that always got caught into trouble. Everyone knew that one guest star on Disney Channel that got every fangirl in America screaming gleefully at their television screens.

Everyone knew Jean Kirschtein.

How could anyone not? He was the main talk of teenaged popular culture for years. A sweetheart with mousy brown hair. Then of course he’d gotten an undercut and bleached it, which resulted in a feud among the fangirls. Which made him look cuter?

His young life was full of surprises, and his parents had been so proud of their little boy for making it this far after just one little audition for a Frosted Flakes commercial. Two sitcoms, a move, three featurettes, and guest appearances all before the age of fifteen. It had been very surreal, but the journey had been worth it. According to his parents of course.

\--

 _“Hmm… Jean Kirschtein,” Levi mused and_ looked through his orientation papers. “Then it’s not a spitting image. It’s really him.”

Mina suddenly seemed excited. Rightfully so. “ _The_ Jean Kirschtein?”

Jean just rolled his eyes. “The one and only.”

“Where did you even _go_?” She was wide-eyed. That just lead Jean to the conclusion that she was probably one of those girls that happened to make it their life goal to know every single detail about him that they possibly could squeeze out of the media. Most celebrities do not know whether to feel flattered or creeped out at the idea.

He always chose the latter in this case.

“Just a lot happened,” Jean mumbled.

Levi tilted his head. “Huh. Well, you’re gonna fit in here, to be honest. Most of our crew members are young actors either in college or trying to work on their career. But don’t think I’m gonna be so lenient on you just because you were an actor. I tell every single employee--”

“I-it’s alright,” Jean stammered quickly. “You do not have to worry about that with me. I don’t have any desire to go back into acting.”

He pursed his lips. “I see. What made you decide to come working here? Surely you have money and experience to land a higher job elsewhere.”

The blood already pounding heavily in his ears rushed through him in a violent current, his palms sweaty. He didn’t like questions like these.

He never liked questions like these.

\--

 _Sometimes Jean was not that into_ a job he did. And then of course there was the paparazzi. They had been up his ass since day one.

He liked the attention when he was little. They all called him cute and asked him nice questions, like what his favorite superhero was and what was his favorite flavor of ice cream. But as he got older, like when he co-starred in that movie when he was twelve, the questions started to get personal. And he wasn’t sure what to answer for more than half of them.

“Who would you prefer to be president in this year’s election?” He didn’t care that much for politics.

“Are any proceeds for this film going to charity?” Hell if he knew. He didn’t know where any of the money went to.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” was probably the most common one. The question that he should be asking them was why the fuck they cared about his personal life so much. Didn’t they have lives of their own and questions that were much more important to them?

Apparently not. The reporters and paparazzi were incarnates of the devil, each individual being an unholy spawn that had nothing better to do in life than make their victims--the celebrities of the world--miserable. It took himself such a long time to figure out what exactly to do with his life, and they were going around and ruining others for their own entertainment.

The media had a field day when he came out as bisexual. It all depended on who exactly they were reporting for with how they portrayed this apparently strange news they received. Everything about the paparazzi was a pure joke, and everyone knew it. But still, they were really good at painting a pretty image for people that weren’t there to see the events for themselves.

Surprisingly, coming out to everyone made his fanbase grow. Either girls were becoming more desperate to be noticed for their debatable amount of support, while guys that were either closetted or out were becoming more confident. But probably the worst side effect to coming out was the threats. some people were not fond at all about a member of the LGBTQ+ community being on children’s shows. There were letters going to his house telling him all of these hurtful things that he didn’t know how to handle at all.

Of course, what support did his parents offer? People wanted him dead. And the stress from all of this was so unbearable. But the advice that they had to give what was probably the start of his incredible downfall.

 _“Remember this,”_ his parents had told him time and time again. _“You have money. You have more money and more experience that they can ever dream of. they are just jealous of your popularity. And they should be. You are Jean Kirschtein.”_

It was probably after the fiftieth time hearing this that he really started to believe it. But the mentality that came with this quote made him all the more detestable among his peers.

He was good at what he did. However he tried too hard to impress the people around him. And the pain with living the life that the world wanted ever since he was five years old was that he felt it was his _duty_ to please them. If they didn’t like something about him, then he just had to go change it. What else could he do?

They used to call him cute.

Then all of a sudden he wasn’t anymore. No one thought that he was hot whenever they saw him on the teen magazine covers. This gangly boy with mousy brown hair. There were stars out there that were rising up with these two-toned undercuts. Everyone seemed to like those. so Jean figured it was time to get one of those hairstyles that they all loved.

He shaved his hair himself. The undercut came out so uneven that there were cuts behind his ears and hair growing in at awkward angles. The bleach was painful to put on his scalp, and it burned to all hell and he hated putting himself through it. After a couple hours he’d looked in the mirror and his roots were still dark while there were streaks of bleached blond strands on the top layer of his hair.

His face appeared on the cover of the National Inquirer with exaggerated bold, capital letters of “ **JEAN KIRSCHTEIN AFFECTED BY BODY IMAGE?** ” He’d cried for two hours when he got home that day.

Thank god at least one person loved him. Granted, she was a couple years older than him, but she was the only one that was able to make him see that there was more to him than this ego that was created to help block out the hate that he was receiving as he got older. There was more to him than that little boy in the Frosted Flakes commercial that managed to slip through the cracks and earn his keep in the wild jungle of show business. Petra Ral was what made him feel like he was a human being.

He did his best not to let the media know about the only pure thing in his life. He didn’t want her life monitored all because she made the poor decision of being in a relationship with him. His parents thought that she was making him lose focus. She was, but they didn’t need to know that. All they knew was that she fixed the horrible roots of his hair and that poor excuse of an undercut.

They didn’t see that she had become his whole world, this mystery girl that the media knew of as “hottie with a body with the messed up blondie.” That much was all they needed to know, despite the obvious vulgarity.

Young love became an eternal bond. They were inseparable when he was off the set. Their kisses were sweeter, and their time was much more precious. Their promises were sealed behind a closed door, under the covers where sweet innocent became merely child’s play. Their commitment was sincere. It was their story beginning and their own personal film, as Jean often called it much to her dismay.

Life became one giant film to him. He’d been in the business for eleven years. He thought that life was this long ass movie. And with movies there was the option of taking out scenes and stopping any errors by just screaming “CUT!” and then starting over to redo the wrongs made.

But at age sixteen, Jean quickly realized that that was not how life worked.

The tears on Petra’s face were just for effect. The worried look in her eyes was to set the scene. The positive pregnancy test in her hand that she hastily showed to him was just a prop for a bad romantic comedy.

End the scene.

Too much feeling…

All whimpering “cut” did was make her burst into tears. He wasn’t there. His state of mind was stuck in Hollywood.

He wasn’t human.

He was a young puppet that was quickly going to be tossed aside.

Jean knew he had to take responsibility, but he wasn’t exactly sure how.  He knew that in the movies the couple told the parents and easily got help from them. Then he and his girlfriend could raise their baby with all the support they needed.

The movies never showed him the bad side.

It seemed that just by telling his mother and father that his girlfriend was pregnant, there was a sudden aura of disgust. He was no longer the happy go-lucky American heartthrob that they created. He was a disgrace to their name. he was a cheat for taking advantage of his finances and causing mayhem for “knocking up some hussie.”

What did the young teenagers desperately say in response in the movies? They needed help. Yes, now he remembered. And Jean emphasized that. They proclaimed that they loved each other. Jean did so. They also said that they were going to be responsible and raise the baby, because that was the greatest blessing life had to offer. Some shit like that. Maybe Jean was too dramatic with the last part, but that usually worked in the movies.

It didn’t work in the real world.

They took everything. His own money… His job, all of the offers that were coming in, everything. He lost it all. All just because he needed help. He didn’t like this alternate reaction.

“Please, can we do this scene over?” was what Jean desperately asked his parents. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

They threw him out.

No money, no place to live, he almost felt too ashamed to return to his lover empty-handed and alone. Petra willingly took him in with the affirmative proclamation that they were going to make this work.

The media knew nothing about the baby, thank god. But there was a huge shock about being disowned by his family so suddenly. But the big rumor was that he started drugs, and that he was using his money to get it secretly.

Fucking ridiculous. Jean honestly felt disgusted. After years of being an absolute sweetheart to every talk show host, photographer, and every other celebrity and studio employee, they ended up quickly turning against him. that made him feel so sick to this stomach every time he saw his story plastered on the news.

But as he watched for the thirtieth time one morning, hearing Petra say that she needed him to come closer made him excitedly turn the TV off to find out that the baby was kicking.

All of that fear and sadness was forgotten.

\--

 _“...I still need to get my_ GED,” Jean said when he managed to regain his focus.

“Surely you would’ve had all this time to get it after six years.” Levi rolled his eyes. “Actors.”

He had no idea.

Absolutely no fucking idea.

\--

 _It was on April fifteen in_ 2010 that Jean thought things couldn’t get any worse. He couldn’t find any jobs because he had almost no education. It really was true that he needed a diploma in order to be offered jobs at higher wages. No luck so far then, but he really was trying. However, adding “Do you know who I am? “ and “I did this in a sketch once” might had caused the employers to detest him so harshly.

After all else failed, he went to school to get his GED. The classes were difficult and kept him up late at night. But he was doing it for his family. The baby was due in a few weeks now, and the seventeen year old was anxious. His girlfriend kept assuring him that everything was fine, but living in her parents’ basement while having no money, no insurance, and no car didn’t show any promise. They failed at preparing themselves, like they had promised her parents several months back when they told them.

No time to dwell on this any longer. It was time much sooner than expected.

This was probably the worst scene that he had to perform in his entire life, watching his love in agony while there was nothing he could do but hold her hand and assure her that she could do this. She couldn’t. He heard the doctors say so among themselves when they thought Jean wouldn’t be listening to them.

All that did was scare the every living shit out of him when the doctors turned back to them and said that everything was fine, under control. No it wasn’t. There was suffering written all over the expectant mother’s face. It was torture to watch, more painful than the way his hand was being squeezed so tight that he was sure she cut off circulation.

He was in a rushed panic, trying so hard to assure her that everything was going to be fine and that she was doing great… like in the movies. But it was one giant disaster after the other. The drugs were useless. The baby was breached. The emergency C-section horrified Jean to no end. He still had nightmares about that to this day.

The movies didn’t show him how ugly childbirth really was.

They also didn’t show him what would happen if the mother was definitely not going to make it. Not going to look at the beautiful child she and  her partner had created together and marvel over how beautiful they were. Jean was wide-eyed at hearing the doctor announce that the baby was a boy. But instead of his girlfriend mirroring his joy, her weak body relaxed on a giant exhale before she closed her eyes and flat lined.

That flat line was drilling into Jean’s skull.

Too much feeling.

What was this horrible ache in his chest and soreness in his face as his lip quivered and his eyes watered? Was this reaction really what it was like to lose the one you loved so much so suddenly?

End the scene.

_Please…_

“C-cut…”

The nurses looked at him like he was crazy.

No one stopped what they were doing to start over. This wasn’t what Jean wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He and Petra were supposed to recover before going back to her parents’ basement to get their acts together and raise their now growing family.

She wasn’t supposed to die.

“Cut!” He was screaming now, delusional and upset. “S-start over, I need another take! Cut!”

He was in tears and holding his lifeless girlfriend, urging her to wake up so that they could do that again, this time the right way. She couldn’t be gone. Life wasn’t supposed to work that way! He had to be escorted out.

There was still so much that he didn’t know yet about the real world, and how it really worked.

\--

 _Jean couldn’t voice his reasons allowed._ He honestly didn’t want to. It was none of his business. During his moment of silence, Levi had already gone to the back. He stood behind the quickly forming lines and listened to the hustle and bustle with a silent sigh. He glanced at the time for a moment. Three o’clock.

It was almost time.

He started getting anxious. Things to do, people to see. He really did have time to just stand around and wait for his new boss to come back out. Thankfully, fate was in his favor.

Levi came back to the counter next to where Mina was vigorously taking orders. “Have you worked at a McDonald’s before, Jean?”

He gave him a nod. “I’ve actually worked at a couple in the area.”

“I see…” He handed him a copy of the schedule. “This is just for the first couple of weeks. Then you’re on your own with figuring out when you come in.”

“No problem,” he insisted. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Yep.” He cringed when hearing a crash. He glanced back at the kitchen. “Connie! I don’t pay you to drop shit!”

Mina sucked in a breath as her boss went back again. “He’s only like that if you piss him off,” she insisted and smiled.

“I see…” He looked at the time. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to run.”

“Yep.” She waved. “And welcome aboard, Jean!”

“Thanks,” he said softly and then walked out the door. The people seemed nice enough, but he realized that more people were going to easily recognize who he was than he originally thought. So this was where most of the students that he acted with went to work. It was either this or the local grocery stores, he supposed. Or the mall.

He couldn’t work at the mall anymore, though. Retail in general was a pain in the ass.

Probably the one pain of not driving was that he had to take the buses. He probably should have dyed his hair a different shade to keep people from recognizing him. It wasn’t like he could completely change his appearance, since his family took all of his money. No matter. Signing autographs inside a stuffy bus was better than walking down the street in the bitterly warm weather of Los Angeles.

He probably should move soon. Get out of this place for good.

Well, at least he could once he would have the money to.

Thankfully the place he needed to be was only down the street the apartment building he lived in. And when he got there he sighed softly in relief at seeing that everything was just as it should be. In order, full of life, and ready for his visit.

“Papa!”

And there was the one person he had been dying to see. He turned around to look at the four year old boy with mousy brown hair. His smile grew so bright as he knelt down and opened his arms wide to pull him close in a tight hug.

“Hello, James…” he murmured. “Did you have a good day today?”

“The best!” the boy chimed and showed him a piece of paper. “We dwew in class today! I made a twain!”

“It looks great,” he insisted and smiled. “That’s going right on the fridge when we get home.”

James’ eyes sparkled. “Huwwy, we have to go now!”

He held his hand and took him over to the door.

“Mr. Kirschtein.”

Jean’s blood ran cold at hearing the voice of the daycare’s owner. He turned his head and sighed. “Yes?”

“You do realize that I don’t do this for free, right? You’re three weeks behind on payment.”

“I know…” Jean sighed. “I’ll have the money for you. I just got my new job.”

“The third new one this year,” they huffed and crossed their arms. “You’d better have every payment in by June, or you won’t have a daycare to keep your son in while you do whatever the hell it is you do.”

They were very angry with his tardiness, and he knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I will have all payments in before June, I assure you.”

“You’d better.”

As Jean walked out the door and headed down the street with his hand gently squeezing his son’s, he mimicked the words of the daycare owner under his breath. That made little James giggle and hold his other arm up towards him.

“Up! Up!”

Jean looked down to see that show-stopping smile on the child’s face that never ceased to take his breath away. Some days he had to remind himself that wow, this was _his_ child. The child that changed everything in his life. The life that he somehow managed to help create. Seeing that smile on his face let him know that everything that he was doing at this point was more than worth it.

He thought the same thing the day that he was born, when he finally got to hold him after hours of begging for the scene to be redone so that Petra could live this time. It took a good slap in the face and his hand being set and put in a temporary brace to snap out of it, to realize that there was nothing that could be done. His girlfriend was gone, and he was on his own. There was no way that Petra’s parents would let the two of them stay for much longer. They hated him, in all honesty, and he knew it.

His mind had stopped racing for once, when he held the newborn in his arms that day. He had to be careful holding him, that much he knew. But before that point, he never held a newborn baby before. And this moment was so surreal that it brought tears to his eyes. This was his child. He couldn’t have asked for any other, and he didn’t want to. He made a solemn vow to make this child’s life wonderful, even when the future seemed so bleak. He had to. He’d come this far after his career abruptly ended, and he wasn’t going to stop now.

He had to keep going.

Holding his now four year old son in his arms never stopped to blow his mind. From every tiny giggle to every slurred “r” that comes out of his mouth, he knew that James had become his entire world. And he had absolutely no problems with that. Parenthood was one thing that Hollywood also didn’t teach him. It took three years of therapy and self-education to figure out how he was going to raise his son. And so far, everything was going according to plan.

They weren’t okay yet, however many times he tried to assure James that they were. They were close. Soon they could  live the life that he had promised. Staying in a nice house and having enough money to buy him everything that he wanted for Christmas. Having a good job and all the time in the world together.

For now, he had to settle with a run-down apartment building, a fast food restaurant job, and night classes to try and _finally_ earn his GED. Even if it meant warning letters about overdue bills and hearing it from the daycare owner, and the paranoid of getting fired. He was more than used to it by now though.

He wasn’t done growing yet, despite all this. He still had so much that he needed to learn, and not much time to learn it. He still managed.

They still managed.


	2. Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco definitely had his life together. With a managing job and the best boyfriend he could ever ask for, there was nothing he'd want different. But... maybe his chances on getting an acting audition that didn't end in disaster could be one thing that he would want different, come to think of it. The new guy at work was not helping much with his confidence either.

_"But we're young, open flowers in the windy fields of this war-torn world._

_And love, this city breathes the plague of loving things more than their creators."_

_\- Hold On To What You Believe,_  Mumford & Sons

* * *

_The alarm c_ _lock screamed “eight o’clock”_ on the busy nightstand, already crowded by crumpled tissue balls, an unplugged lamp, the humidifier and a small picture frame. A tanned hand reached over to shut the clock off, the arm showing off tiny dark specks along the skin. There was a sniffle followed by a dragged out yawn before the figure rises, stretching their arms out before their attention is drawn to the sprawled sheets that covered the naked half of their body.

Just recently recovering from a bad cold, Marco sighs and rubs the back of his sore neck. He knew he had to go back to work eventually, but he had hoped that he could take another day off. But of course, he couldn’t stay curled up in his bed cuddled close to the warm, peacefully resting body of his boyfriend forever. Responsibilities were a bitch.

When he got up from his spot, as bare as the day he was born, the man sleeping beside him was startled awake, looking up blearily with a worried expression plastered on his face. Marco sighed and went over to his spot, smiling softly.

“Hey, go back to bed,” he murmured.

“Time is it?” he rasped and stretched, looking around the room as if to make sure he knew where he was.

“You don’t wanna know.” He smiled and kissed his hair. “I’m going in the shower. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmf,” was the response that sounded which was muffled by the pillow. He took it.

With a final yawn, he went in the bathroom and showered for a good thirty minutes, just to wake himself up. He had his work clothes here with him and was more than prepared for the day. He had been working at his job for five years, and all throughout his time working there his boss assured him “You’re doing great” and “I see a lot of potential in you,” even though he was anxious as hell and full of self-doubt.

And now he was a manager.

Daz was out of bed when Marco got out of the shower, much to his dismay. “Hey, I thought I told you to stay in bed.”

“Yeah, that didn’t work out so well,” he mumbled groggily. “What do you want for breakfast?”

He pondered. “Eggs and sausage.”

“Coming right up. Just this one time,” he frowned. “I don’t understand how you can eat all of this. It’s foul.”

“It’s meat,” he chuckled. “Honestly, you wouldn’t last a minute working at McDonald’s with me.”

“Yeah, only in your dreams will I work there with you. I’m sorry, but it’s disgusting.”

“I know, Daz,” he smiled and sat in his chair. “My audition is today. For that soap opera.”

His boyfriend looked over. “Yeah, that’s right,” he smiled. “You’re gonna  do great, I know it.”

“Thanks.” He blushed out of  modesty. “Oh, how did the audition for that TV show go?”

“Alright, I think…” He didn’t sound too confident about it. “But maybe I put too much emotion into it. Know what I mean?”

After breakfast was finished, Marco gratefully took the food from Daz and let him get a more satisfying meal for himself. “Well I know what you mean, but I really don’t think you did. I know you’re going to get a part, even if it’s just a civilian.”

“Maybe…” He got to the table with a couple slices of melon to start off his morning. “But still. I don’t think I did so well.”

“Will you stop?” Marco crossed his arms. “You are a great actor, understand? You’ve gotten a lot of parts in plays after we graduated.”

“They were minor parts, Marco.”

“But they were still parts,” he insisted. “And what is going to make doing a film any different? It’s still the same structure, except only the studio employees are the audience. Unless if you’re doing a sitcom, that is.”

“It’s the farthest thing from a sitcom,” Daz said. “It’s about this other society that is attacked by giant beings.”

Marco rubbed his chin after eating some of his breakfast. “Interesting story line…”

“Guess so, but stuff like that gives me the creeps.”

“It’s all effects, babe.” He leaned close and kissed him. “You’re gonna do great.”

Daz gave him this shy smile. “This is why I love you. You are probably the best acting coach I have ever had.”

“And I do my job for free,” he grinned. “Maybe with a side of extra kisses.”

“I have good news for you, then. There’s an unlimited supply of those,” he murmured and gave him another kiss. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled. He then glanced at the clock. “Shit. I gotta go to work.”

“Have fun.”

“I’ll sure try.” He rolled his eyes. “The audition is after work, so I’ll be home a little late.”

“That’s alright,” he insisted. “And good luck.”

“I’m gonna need it.” He kissed him again chastely and then headed off with a wave.

Traffic was as brutal as ever, but when wasn’t that ever the case? Thankfully the small house that he and his boyfriend shared wasn’t too far away from his job. And it was very easy for him to adjust coming in because everyone there had something in common with him. One day they were going to get the part in a film that they always wanted. They just needed to work on the side. And Marco was pretty happy with the way things were right now. Well, maybe except for the whole not having an acting job since he graduated college thing. That he still needed to work on. But after tonight, he was sure that he could get that soap opera job. It was a shoe-in.

He walked into the little McDonald’s restaurant and breathed in the smell of grease. He went over to the schedule book while some people tried to get his attention by waving obnoxiously. He was pretty popular here, it seemed.

He noticed a woman in a black shirt come up to him, and he easily knew she was another manager without even having to think about it. “Rico, who is supposed to come at noon?” He noticed that they were short a few people in the staff.

“Connie, Samuel, and Mina,” she answered. “Mina has only half a shift.”

“Damn…” he grumbled. “I might ask her to work over if she’s not busy. I’m gonna have to put her in drive-thru too, if Franz leaves at one.”

“Levi doesn’t want any more people working overtime, Mina especially,” Rico frowned. “Also, there was a lot of waste thrown out during breakfast.”

“Again?” he groaned. “Levi is not going to be happy about that when he finds out. Who is working on table?”

“The new guy,” she muttered. She seemed to not like him at all, judging by the way she sounded when she mentioned that.

“Rico, you’re gonna have to fill me in. I’ve been sick for a week. Who is the ‘new guy?’”

“His name’s Jean,” she said. “He started three years ago. Levi threw him in working full shifts because he’d already been trained.”

“If he’d already been trained, then why is he wasting stuff?” he muttered.

“He keeps messing up special orders. And the sandwiches themselves. And he throws the stuff away afterwards to try again… only to mess up again.”

“And you still keep him working on table?” He seemed almost outraged. “Are you out of your mind? He obviously doesn’t know table, so get him out of there!”

She rolled her eyes and glanced over at the kitchen. “Gunther! Switch with Jean.”

Marco heard some shuffling and sighed, rubbing his brow. “The new guy is not allowed on table. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled. “His hours are eight to four. No later, by his request.”

“Whatever, it’s none of my business,” he shrugged. “I’m gonna go talk to Jean, and then I’ll take over and you can go home. Alright?”

“You got it.” She went back up to the front counter while Marco went to the kitchen.

Gunther was on table now, easily handling the tail end of the breakfast rush since lunch was only a half hour away. Meanwhile the “new guy” in question was on grill, trying to make enough food to sustain the restaurant for the next hour. He fixed his hat a few times, obviously sweaty and wanting to get this over with. Not exactly the attitude that employees should be having, but then again he didn’t know anything about him.

Marco tilted his head, knowing he had to briefly break his concentration. “Jean, is it?”

Jean flinched when the manager caught his attention. He looked over. “I-I haven’t seen you around…” He heard the beeping of the grill clam and turned his attention back to pulling up the food.

He shrugged. “I’ve been sick for a week and finally got back to work,” he explained. “I’m Marco. I usually am the midday shift manager.”

“And you know who I am,” he muttered. “Let me guess. You’re one of those star people, aren’t you?”

“Ah, so you know about the whole ‘Actor’s Guild’ thing?” he laughed nervously. “Yeah, everyone here is pretty much an actor or close to it. It’s an easy side job.”

“Well, I didn’t come here to have a side job. This is supposed to be a career.”

“A career _here_?” he chuckled. “I’m sure you’re gonna have lots of fun with that.” He leaned close. “Don’t tell Levi I said that.”

“Whatever.” Jean seemed very closed, just focused on doing his job.

“Listen… if you’ve already been trained at a previous job, then why are you messing up on table? Rico told me that you had been wasting food all morning.”

“I wasn’t trained on table.”

“Obviously not.” Marco cut in.

Jean shot him a hard stare. “The last time I worked for McDonald's, I was mostly in drive-thru. They didn’t want me working in the kitchen, because they all thought that I was going to be a bad ‘cook,’ or ‘sandwich maker,’ or what have you,” he muttered. “And I honestly don’t care where I’m put. I just want to make sure that I am doing a good job here.”

Marco found himself looking at his expression a little too closely. He knew that face. “You said your name was Jean, right?”

“Right,” he mumbled.

“Jean _Kirschtein_?”

He went rigid. Marco could tell. “Well, that _is_ my last name, right?”

The brunette was far too elated to notice the evident attitude in his voice. “ _The_ Jean Kirschtein? Working in our store? Oh my god, I’d never thought in a million years--”

“What’s the big deal, huh?” he muttered. “I’m Jean Kirschtein. That guy in drive-thru is Franz Kefka. And that’s Gunther Schultz. And you are…”

“Marco Bodt’s my full name,” he said. “And I have to be one of your biggest fans,” he said with a smile. “You’re an inspiration to young actors, you know that?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “All I did was get the part in a cereal commercial, get in a cheesy sitcom, co-star in a movie, and guest star on what had to be some of the dumbest shows that this country had to offer.”

He flinched. “You seemed so much nicer on TV.”

“Well, the difference between my career and yours is simple. I had my flame in show business, and now it’s been burnt out. No one cares. Now I’m just the guy on the street that people freak out over seeing and try to desperately get my autograph on a used napkin.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I see… I guess it gets annoying when everyone recognizes who you are then, huh?”

“Yes,” he muttered. “And you are no exception, Mr. ‘Big Fan’ Bodt. But you are a manager, so…”

“So, you should try and be a little nicer to me,” he said and crossed his arms. “Your career lies in my hands, Mr. Kirschtein. And if you don’t follow my rules, there are going to be consequences. Now, we’re not gonna be putting you on table anymore, because the results of that are atrocious. So, until I can get you a spot on frontline, you’re going to be on grill and in charge of the breakfast dishes. Understand?”

“Unless told otherwise by our boss?”

“Hey, don’t get smart,” Marco frowned. “But yes, you are right. Now, I must take care of inventory. Carry on.”

“Yep…” Jean was then trying to quickly get the lunch food ready for the next wave of customers. Working here had its ups and downs, and rushes had to be the biggest downs of all.

Still, Jean was downright rude. Were all child stars like that at some point? He would never know. He knew of him to be a sweet child on TV.

He shrugged it off. His situations were none of his business. Whatever was going on in his life that made him this irritable, he didn’t have the right to know, and that was perfectly acceptable. He tried not to think about it any further, but nothing could take him off of the fact that his childhood idol just basically acted like a smartass and didn’t acknowledge his level of authority until after he had called him out on his shit.

He had more important things to worry about, like the audition for the soap opera later on tonight. He showed his anticipation throughout the day, helping the crew members when he needed to.

At noon, Mina, Connie, and Samuel arrived right on schedule. Well… Connie arrived a few minutes late, but he was not going to dwell on that until later. For now, everything was under control, and he went on break an hour later, after Franz clocked out and Mina was making sure everything was running smoothly up front.

Meanwhile he was texting Dazz while eating a chicken club (although it had limited toppings because he was superstitious about preparing for auditions. He didn’t want to fill himself up too much, after all.

 

**From: Daz**  
babe, you’re eating a proper meal, right?  
1:16 pm

 

Marco sighed heavily and smiled. He cared so much.

 

**To: Daz**  
I’m eating a chicken club with no sauce, no onions, and added ketchup. I think I’m okay…  
1:17 pm

**From: Daz**  
ur eating habits are disgusting love :P  
1:17 pm

**To: Daz**  
I love you too.  
1:17 pm  
Trust me, I’m fine. Nothing wrong with cutting back a little bit before an audition.  
It’s at 5:30 btw  
1:19 pm

**From: Daz**  
lol thats cutting back?  
1:21 pm  
i’ll take your word for it. take care of urself please  
1:22 pm

**To: Daz**  
I’ll try  
Not making any promises tho ;)  
1:22 pm

**From: Daz**  
when u get back we should have sex  
1: 22 pm  
to celebrate, i mean  
1:23 pm

Marco’s face turned red, and he tried not to choke on the mouthful of his sandwich too much. He cleared his throat as people that were still working were staring at him. He laughed  nervously, wiping his mouth off with the napkin before reading the message again. He always did this to him while he was at work! Cheeky bastard.

He loved him so much.

 

**To: Daz**  
I don’t know if I’ll even get the part, though… I won’t know for a couple weeks.  
1:25 pm

**From: Daz**  
then for good luck?  
1: 25 pm

He cackled. The customers were staring at him, but he didn’t care. This was normal behavior for him.

**To: Daz**  
If I wanted to have sex for good luck, I would’ve asked you before I left for work you dork. ahaha!  
1:27 pm  
But you have it very nicely put, so..  
Maybe.  
1:28 pm

**From: Daz**  
well we DO have something to celebrate about, though…  
1: 28 pm

**To: Daz**  
And… what might that be?  
1:28 pm

**From: Daz**  
the results came back from that tv show. marco i got the part i auditioned for. i’ll be playing as Dexter in Humanity’s Greatest!  
1:29 pm

Marco quickly covered his mouth to contain his elated reaction. Daz got the part! He already felt so happy for him and had the biggest smile on his face. He looked at the time and groaned.

**To: Daz**  
WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME RIGHT WHEN I HAVE TO GO BACK TO WORK???  
CONGRATULATIONS, BABY!!  
1:30 pm

**From: Daz**  
Thank you! <3  
wouldn’t have made it w/out u  
1:30 pm

Marco blushed and smiled as always. He sat back, despite having to go back to work in a few minutes.

**To: Daz**  
I’m so proud of you, I love you!  
And I believe celebratory sex is definitely in order when I get home!  
1:31 pm

There was a moment’s pause, and he used that time to go back up to the counter and clock in. He went into the small office to put his phone away by the time Daz answered him back. He could definitely tell that his boyfriend was surprised by his comment, judging by the fact there was a broken message of something that could probably be translated to “definitely,” “I love you,” “Good luck,” and “I’ll see you when I get home” all at the same time. His favorite kind of flustered Daz.

He then had to turn his phone off and head back to work. He was just about ready to finish his day, even though he still had a few more hours. After the lunch rush though, things were starting to get a little easier to manage here. A slower day meant that it would soon start to get boring. He was so focused on later on that for a moment he lost focus. Until a small voice called his name.

He glanced behind him and noticed that it was Jean trying to get his attention. He didn’t look as menacing or feisty as he did this morning when Marco first tried talking to him. Maybe it was just the stress getting to him earlier that made him so tense.

“What’s up?” he asked him softly and checked the schedule. “What time do you leave, Jean?”

“...Now, sir.”

He looked at the clock and pursed his lips. “Oh yeah.” It was four o’clock. He looked at Jean. “Is your station cleaned?”

He nodded briskly. “I even mopped back by the salad prep station.”

“You did?” He pursed his lips. “Well… Good. Very good, Jean. Is Connie at the grill now?”

“Yes, he is,” Jean whispered. “I really should get going, though… I have really important matters to attend to.”

He nodded and glanced down at his schedule. “Yeah you can go.”

Jean sighed softly in relief. “Thank you.” He went in the back to get his things after clocking out.

Marco knew that soon his own shift would be over. Just another hour and a half before he had to go and audition. He felt Jean brush passed him but ignored it, closing the schedule book and getting out the inventory list. The closing manager had to take care of this, and he wanted to make sure that it was in the right place for them. Back in the office.

“Hey… Marco?”

Jean was trying to call over the buzz of the crowd of customers. He just barely caught the brunette’s attention, but nonetheless it made him look up. He tilted his head when watching the familiar man take his hat off. He definitely fixed his hair better after the awkward teenaged years that Marco easily knew about. He grew up alongside the former child star, only he was many miles away, staring at him on the television screen and not realizing that this part that he was playing conformed to his actual lifestyle.

All he knew was that watching that little boy with the mousy brown hair taught him how to have the courage to show his talents. That was how he was looking to the future of a strong acting career now, even though things didn’t seem to currently go in his favor. There was a bright side to everything, and a strong hope for the future was his. Not once wavering ever since he had graduated high school.

Marco had to reprocess that he was trying to talk to him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“You’re an actor, aren’t you?” the blonde asked softly, running a hand through his mussed hair. “Or at least you’re trying to be, like everyone else?”

He gave a confident nod. Surely the person he looked up to the most should be impressed. “Yes, I am. I have an audition tonight.”

“But have you ever gotten any of the parts you auditioned for in the past?”

He pursed his lips. He was pretty good. “No, I haven’t. Not yet. But I was a really good actor in college, my instructors said so. I’d gotten the lead in all the dramas we did, four years in a row. Not the musicals though,” he added shyly. “I can’t really sing.”

“Shame,” he shrugged. “Well, that’s one genre out.” Jean looked at the time and tapped his foot. “So you are still hoping on getting a good part?”

“Yes. I want to be a successful actor just like you.”

He didn’t understand why his statement was so laughable, but apparently Jean couldn’t restrain the sudden chuckle that bubbled in his throat. That waivered his confidence just a little bit.

“Believe me. I was not successful. A cereal commercial, a sitcom, a movie, and guest appearances all before you turn fifteen is not really, as you would say, ‘successful.’ I was just playing the part that everyone wanted me to. That’s the life of a child star, you know.”

“Not always…” He tried to add that in, but that made Jean stiff. He cut him off by clenching his fist around the sweaty hat in his hand.

“The best thing for you now is to stay at this job, not waste your time doing all this back and forth stuff. Show business is not really as glamorous and beautiful as kids like to think it is when they try to imagine what it would be like to be on top,” he muttered. “If you are still in that pitiful vorfreude that the gates of Hollywood will open for you upon setting their eyes on you, then you really do not know what it is like on the inside after the gates close.”

“You’re wrong.” Marco realized that it was probably too quick for him to snap back, but he was very passionate about his career. He’d been trying way too hard for someone to tell him to give up. “Just because it didn’t work out for you, doesn’t mean that everyone else around you is going to have the same results. Instead of putting young actors down, being one yourself, why not be more encouraging about it?”

“Oh, I’ll show you encouraging.” Jean stepped closer. He sounded like he was mocking him now. “‘You’re gonna do great. It’s gonna be the best audition you’ve ever done. The performance anxiety is just a demon that you can easily just shake off. You know why? It’s because your career is going to progress even farther than you can possibly imagine. You are young, you are attractive, and you are in charge of yourself. You are Jean Kirschtein.’ Is that what you really want to hear before your big audition?”

“...My name is Marco Bodt, not Jean. And like I said. Just because you had things differently, doesn’t mean that everyone else is going to have the same ending results. Now, I think you have important matters to attend to, correct? Leave now before I give you a write up and talk to Levi about your behavior.”

Jean glared but knew that he was right. He shrugged his tension off and went on his way. Marco on the other hand was very annoyed, of course.

“The nerve,” he muttered under his breath and looked at the schedule again. Just another hour, and then he was free to go about his day and do the audition. He just needed to stay focused, prepared, and sharp.

He wasn’t going to listen to Jean. He was going to do great tonight.

\--

_It was time. And all Marco_ could think about was what Jean told him earlier. He could barely remember the lines and gestures that he had practiced and memorize weeks. He didn’t want to choke, all because of something some former child star actor said.

“What does he know?” he muttered to himself. “He’s not the prompt of all young actors. Everyone is different.” He’d only told himself this dozens of times since Jean had clocked out. “Everyone’s different.” He added in a nervous chuckle as he heard the door open.

“Mr. Bodt?” One of the auditors came out. “We’re ready to see you now.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. He stepped inside with the confidence that he was supposed to show. He saw the casting director, the producers, and the director. Already he was feeling way too anxious for this. Stupid Jean and his ideas on acting. It was throwing him off much more than he thought.

When he first auditioned for college, he imagined that the directors were cartoon animals. What ever animal they were, it mattered based on their appearance. He tried using that method since it worked last time. The Dean ended up looking like a horse with big teeth and glasses, and his laughter during that audition brought out this interesting, fun character that they wanted in their program. Either way, it helped him relax and feel more comfortable.

But when he saw that the director ended up looking like the little turtle kid from Robin Hood, he started giggling right away. It seemed that they didn’t like that.

“You do realize that you are auditioning for the role of a dying character, correct?”

Marco gulped. “Of course.”

The director nodded. “Alright then. Begin when you are ready.”

He nodded and looked down. He needed to focus now. It was not the time to start laughing. He tried to remember which one he was supposed to start on first. Was it the monologue or the audition piece? Wait, maybe it was the audition piece first. That was the most important part, right? God, he hated auditions.

He took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” he murmured.

He decided to start with his audition piece, going with his gut. Probably not the best decision. He kept stammering.

_Pick yourself up. Act like nothing happened. You can do this. Make good eye contact. Don’t choke… Don’t choke._

The monologue was next. He looked he casting director in the eye as he recited the most somber, tear-jerking monologue could find. He was best at that, compared to how abysmal the audition piece was. But it was shaky. He was thinking back again to what Jean said.

_“The best thing for you now is to stay at this job, not waste your time doing all this back and forth stuff.”_

_Pick yourself up._

_“Show business is not really as glamorous and beautiful as kids like to think it is when they try to imagine what it would be like to be on top.”_

_You can do this._

_“You’re gonna do great.”_

_Make good eye contact…_

_“The performance anxiety is just a demon that you can easily just shake off.”_

_You can do this._

_“Your career is going to progress even farther than you can possibly imagine.”_

_Start fresh, don’t panic, don’t choke--_

_“You are young.”_

_Don’t choke, Marco._

_“You are attractive.”_

_Don’t choke!_

_“And you are in charge of yoursel--”_

He choked.

He knew he did. That’s why the casting director said, “Thank you. I think we’ve heard enough.” Why else?

“I really had everything memorized. I know what to do. Please let me try again.” He didn’t want to make it seem like he was begging.

“Thank you, I believe I’ve seen enough,” was the response.

He’d only choked three times in his life. And the pit growing in his stomach never got any less painful to endure. He nodded and his eyes started to water, and he did his best to blink them back as he mumbled a soft “thank you” before leaving.

He should have expected this. Maybe he didn’t choke at every audition, but he’d never get the part, even after his good experience in acting. It never worked. No one ended up wanting him, no matter how hard he tried. And that was how it was going to be at every audition he’d ever have until the end of time. Why did he make himself go insane thinking that one day there would be a good result for a change?

The ride home was long. He knew that Daz probably expected some celebratory sex like he had promised, but he didn’t have the strength or the will to. That had to be the worst audition in his life. And then he thought to himself that maybe….

"Maybe Jean was right."


	3. Crooked Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blessings could sometimes be tainted with old curses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, it's been a while! I'm so sorry for the lack of updates! College consumed my creativity for a long time, but now I'm back while summer is still thriving and work has not run me ragged yet! So, here's the long-awaited update! Sorry if it's not that great, I'm still really rusty on the whole writing thing.

_"I braved treacherous streets and kids strung out on homemade speed._

_And we shared a bed in which I could not sleep at all._

_'Cause at night the sun in retreat made the skyline lack the crooked teeth in the mouth of a man who was devouring us both."_

_\- Crooked Teeth,_ Death Cab for Cutie.

* * *

 

 _“So when is the social worker_ supposed to be here?”

“About three-ish?” Jean was busy scrambling around the apartment cleaning up. “Can you pick up that shirt on the floor?”

His best friend Eren sighed heavily and picked it up. “And you didn’t have the house cleaned already because…?”

“Because work kept me busy,” he mumbled. “I’ve been working there for five weeks and only got paid three hundred dollars. It’s not enough. And I work eight hour days, seven days a week.”

“Jean… it’s McDonald’s.” He crossed his arms. “I keep telling you to go back into acting, but of course you never listen to me.”

Jean frowned. “You know why I don’t want to go back into acting, Eren.” He finished cleaning up in the living room. “Okay… I think this living space is just about ready for a social worker to come in, right?”

“You wouldn’t need one if you were still acting.”

“I still would!” He was taken aback by that. “No matter what, the social workers would be gnawing at my tail. I was accused of being a drug addict in the tabloids as a teenager, my girlfriend died giving birth to James while I was still technically unstable. And on top of that, for the first few months of his life we were homeless. That is just a few things contributing to this shitty dogpile. So of course there would still be social workers involved, even if I went back to acting.”

Eren sighed, knowing what he was mentioning. “I still think you should go back into acting.”

“Shut up, Eren!” He cleaned up his son’s toys off the floor. "Now is not a good time. I need to just... just focus on this right now." He was relieved to see that the apartment was now tidy and ready for the social worker. They were a whole new breed of scary... when he didn’t do something right, at least. Which was all the time.

He heard a tiny rhythm of footsteps come down the small hallway. His son rushed up to him with such a bright smile on his face. “Papa, wanna come play?”

He smiled softly and knelt down. “I wish I could, bud. But Dr. Hanji is coming soon.”

The little boy frowned. “Why does she have to come again?”

“ _They,_ James,” he corrected. “You refer to Hanji as _they_ and _them._ Remember our talk last time they were here?”

He looked down, afraid he was going to get in trouble for that again. “Yes. Sowwy, Papa.”

“It’s alright. Just, please remember that, okay? You wanna make them happy, right?”

He eagerly nodded. “We have to make sure they’re weally happy when they come here!”

“That’s right,” he grinned and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Is your room clean?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Yeah, well what about your bed?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Be wight back!” He turned and rushed off back to his little room.

The boy’s father just watched and made sure that James really was cleaning, and he smiled softly before throwing a folded blanket over the top of the couch. Finally the apartment was done. And just in time too. He could hear the knock on the door that signaled the social worker was here. It was quarter to three.

“A little earlier than I expected,” he stammered. He answered the door for them. “Ah, good afternoon.”

His social worker pushed their glasses a little further up the bridge of their nose and just gave the apartment a quick skim. “A lot tidier than the last time I was here.”

_So much for a “hello.”_

“Yes, yes it is,” he stammered. “Please, come in.” He took them inside and saw Eren just watching them get settled. “Oh, Eren this is Hanji, our social worker. And Hanji, this is my friend Eren Jaeger.”

“Oh yes. I remember you saying that you’ve stayed with a man of the same name in the past. Nice to meet you,” they said.

Before Eren could respond, Hanji went in the kitchen. They were looking for cleanliness, and unlike the last time they had come over, there definitely was a difference in how kempt the apartment was. “Can I see your son?”

Jean nodded. “He’s in his room.”

They nodded and went down the hall. It was a bit unfortunate that they knew exactly where to look for James. At the moment, Jean couldn’t tell how many times Hanji came to investigate their living situation.

“So, how long does this usually take?” Eren then asked, breaking the unsteady silence.

“About twenty minutes,” he said. “They investigate the living situation, talk to James, and then evaluate before relaying their results back to me. I’ve been working on a lot since the last time they stopped by.”

“At least they announce that they’re coming before they actually do,” his friend sighed. “You know there are those different kinds of situations where they just come by surprise.”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m very fortunate.”

Jean couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about in the bedroom. His four year old son was very smart; almost too smart. He picked up on anything unusual that might occur, and he had a habit of blurting out those happenings. He went closer to the room, just hoping that he could pick up on anything that James might say. He just wanted a good evaluation.

“So, is your father working?” he heard Hanji ask.

James answer was very eager. “Yes! He works at McDonald’s!”

Oh, sweet child. If only he knew that there could have been a much better opportunity for them.

“Very impressive. Does he bring home food from work?”

“Sometimes,” he replied. “And other nights he bwings home fwozen dinners.”

“I see you still have that slur,” they said.

How was a four year old supposed to know that his speech still wasn’t proper yet? Why would they say something like that? Things like that still irritated Jean, after hearing it from Hanji, as well as the daycare owner. But he tried not to make too much of a reaction towards it, knowing that this was supposed to be a private conversation between the social worker and his son.

Despite the comment, the conversation continued as normal. Hanji asked more questions. “Are there any other jobs that your father is doing?” they asked. “Is he going to school at all?”

“No. I thought gwown-up wewen’t supposed to go to school.”

They chuckled. “Now then. Is he still taking those naked pictures?”

He winced at the question. He recalled that James really did like to talk about everything.

“Nuh-uh,” the little boy uttered. “I don’t think so.”

 _That’s not a good answer!_ He wanted to exclaim, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I see.” Jean then heard some scribbling on that notepad Hanji carried during each visit. “Has there been anything strange going on besides that? Anything that you think was something you shouldn’t have seen?”

Jean was biting his nails at this point. He hoped desperately that James didn’t in fact, see anything that he shouldn’t have seen.

He then heard his little boy answer Hanji. “I didn’t see anything stwange. But there was this one night where Papa bwought someone here. Sounded like they were hurting each other. I went to see what was wrong but the door was locked. I was scared.” His “r’s” still slurred in all their glory as he innocently told them what he heard.

Jean almost had a heart attack.

“Is that so, young man?” they mused while they both talked to each other.

“Yeah. Do you think you can tell Papa that he scared me?”

“I will, James,” they insisted.

That was when Jean concluded that the world really was out to get him.

He heard them starting to get out of the room, so he hurried to get back in the kitchen. He tried to fix up the snack bowl of trail mix that he had for his guest. He even got lemonade for Hanji and chocolate milk for his son. Over the top, maybe. But it didn’t hurt to play it safe and try to butter them up. As he set up on the coffee table, James rushed over at seeing the snacks.

“Chocolate milk too, Papa?!” He looked so cheerful and excited.

“Yes, your favorite.” He looked at the social worker and offered a seat. “Would you like to sit down, Hanji?” he stammered.

“I think I have seen enough from my evaluation,” they said. “Let’s discuss this in the other room.”

This wasn’t good. “But… wouldn’t you like some lemonade? I-it’s freshly squeezed and naturally sweetened.”

“Come.” Hanji was always stern with him. Out of reluctance, Jean followed them into his room to talk in private. He especially didn’t want his son to hear the bad news. “This living situation that James is in… it’s still too explicit.”

“Listen, I know what night he is talking about.” He was going to attempt to defend himself. “I had his guardian watching him for the night while I went out to find work at night, so that I could be home with him in the morning. I-I mean, you saw Eren. He really is very good with him. But, I just…”

“Did you get the job?” their response was curt.

They’d been through this spiel way too many times. “…No.”

“Of course not.” They crossed their arms. “How do you expect to provide for your child if you cannot make a decent living, Mr. Kirschtein?”

“I really am trying the best that I can,” he said quickly. “There’s not really much that I can do without a high school diploma.”

“Why won’t you get an education, then?” they insisted. “You say that you want to be a responsible father, then why won’t you step yourself up?”

“I am responsible, Hanji!” He was taken aback. “I am. I’m trying to be the father I’m supposed to be for him! And I really think I’m getting there. I can work on this!”

“Tell me. Why am I here in the first place, Mr. Kirschtein?”

“Because those people at the daycare are way too fucking nosy—”

“I know for a fact that this really has nothing to do with nosy parents at a daycare center,” they frowned. “So tell me. Why am I here?”

His fists clenched, and he bit down on his knuckle for a moment. “Because my son found naked pictures of me from a photoshoot. But that was the only one that I ever did, and it got me the down payment for the apartment. And the only reason why this isn't on the news is because I gave that damn carpool group a different name for myself.”

“Listen, I’m just here for the welfare of your son, not to hear your excuses for your poor behavior. Leave that for a therapist.” Hanji jotted a few final notes. “That explicit content is what has been brought to my attention, but you still have not resolved that completely. Your cleanliness as improved exponentially, however. And if you can keep this job at McDonald’s, or maybe even find something better, then I’ll ensure you that there will be a good report of stability in your future. But as long as you still continue this explicit, sexual behavior, it is still not a healthy enough environment for James.”

“I’ve been trying to do everything right ever since you first came here,” he insisted. “See? You just said that I improved on cleanliness.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” They insisted. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m being a horrible person. I am all for you keeping your son. But in order to make that a reality, I need more progress from you. And you need to change this behavior. Okay, Mr. Kirschtein?”

He nodded gratefully. “I understand, Hanji. I’m sorry for the way things are this month. I hope that it will get better.”

“Of course,” they agreed. “And so do I. You’re a good adapter. I wish that other parents are as compliant as you are. They’d learn a lot from you.”

“Thank you.” He was more than willing to take a compliment from them. Usually they are much firmer, but he was just glad there was definitely a progress that they could see. He really was hoping that one day, Hanji wouldn’t have to come over to the apartment every month anymore. And he was pretty much praying for that day.

Sooner than expected, Jean showed them the way out. He sighed shakily and didn’t even realize at first that Eren had left earlier on. As soon as the coast was clear, he plopped down on the couch and looked over at James, who was eagerly finishing his trail mix. He gave him a soft smile. Despite the fact that he could most of the time be way too open about whatever goes on here, he is just blessed that he could stay here for another month longer.

He wrapped his arm around the head of the couch and watched the show with James. “So... that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” his son agreed. “Much better than last month. They weren’t so angwy and scawy.”

“I agree,” he chuckled and kissed his hair. “And thank you for saying ‘they,’ James. That was very good.”

“I knew you’d like that!” he giggled and snuggled up against his father. “Papa, do you think we can go out for ice cweam soon? Vewy soon?”

He sighed softly. Oh god, he really wished he could. “I’m sorry, bud. I have to be at work early tomorrow morning. You’re going to be at the daycare.”

“Not again,” he groaned. “Why can’t _you_ stay here for once, Papa?”

His heart ached at hearing the disappointment in his voice. “Because, I have to make sure that you’re still being taken care of,” Jean told him gently. “We both need food, water, and shelter in order for us to keep staying together. And I can’t do that if I don’t have a job.”

“But when will you have time for me?” the little boy whined. He was used to his father working this much to the point where he barely saw him anymore, but that didn’t mean that he liked that.

“Soon baby, I promise,” he assured him and nuzzled his hair. “You’re here with me now, aren’t you?”

James’ pout melted to a soft smile as he nodded. “Yes!” He kissed his papa’s cheek. “Can you tuck me in tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded as James sat on his lap.

“Yay! You’re the best papa ever!”

With a soft smile on his face, Jean kept his son close while they watched some more television. After they had dinner that night, he made sure James got his bath before sending him to bed. The sun had long since gone down when he finally got a chance to sit down and breathe. Because of his busy work schedule, these moments of peace were a blessing, albeit short lived.

He thought about Hanji’s evaluation today. He didn’t think that James was awake after he had gotten home that night with the guy he met when he worked as a waiter at the nightclub. Now that night was a mess. He himself didn’t know that the man he slept with just so happened to be his boss’ son... who was married. He got fired from that place so fast.

“Why am I still such a mess?” he groaned to himself and ran his hands over his face. “I’ve changed everything about my old life for James... why is it still terrible?”

He heard his phone ring, and he was just surprised that it was still on and able to take calls. He answered it and looked up at the ceiling while he lied back on the couch. He knew it was Eren, because he didn’t even give him a chance to ask who was calling him before his friend began what he needed to talk to Jean so badly about.

“Listen, Jean. I think I can help you out.”

“Well, that was sudden,” he mumbled sarcastically. “By the way, when did you leave earlier?”

“While you were eavesdropping on James and Hanji,” Eren said. “Anyways, I wanted to tell you that I think I can get a good gig for you.”

He sighed heavily. “Eren, we went through this at least half a million times.”

“No, hear me out!” he insisted on the other end. “I got a job for a Netflix TV show that they’ve come up with. They said it is gonna be the best thing since Game of Thrones!”

“That’s a bit of a high expectation for a Netflix show, don’t you think?”

“That says a lot, coming from someone who doesn’t even watch it,” he replied. “However, there is no sex in it.”

“Well, that really narrows things down, then,” he said sarcastically. “A comparison to an alternate version of Game of Thrones that might just be fun for the whole family. Now, who are you even playing as on the show?”

“Glad you asked.” He could hear the grin in his voice. “I got the lead!”

Jean’s eyes widened. “ _You,_ Eren Jaeger, actually got a lead?”

“I know, can you believe it?! It’s the dream!”

“Congratulations,” he smiled and kicked his shoes off after realizing he’d had them on all this time. “So, what was that about when you said you might get me a good gig?”

“Wait, I thought you said—”

“Well, I can be curious, right?” Jean frowned. “Now, tell me.”

Eren chuckled. “Well, since you asked, there are some spots that still need to be filled. There’s one that might be just perfect for you.”

Something felt fishy about this whole thing. “Hey now, if you said that this was going to be the best thing since Game of Thrones, then why don’t they have actors? Don’t you think that’s a little…shady?”

“It’s not exactly a well-known production,” Eren laughed nervously. “But—but the director graduated at the top of his class, and he was mentored by the minds behind that really gross, confusing as fuck horror show everyone is raving about.”

“Songs of the Cicadas?”

“Yeah, that one!” Eren took a second to regain his train of thought. “This is his first production on his own. He’d tried getting some more recommendations, but not many actors are into the nature of the production. It’s... kind of a Dystopian, apocalyptic world with a lot of fighting roles. Let’s face it, you definitely know that most of the actors in the industry absolutely suck when it comes to fitness.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge everyone, Eren,” he said. “But that makes a lot of sense, now. I still think it’s really weird that they are accepting roles so easily like that. Don’t they need to speak to their managers, or something? _Anything?_ ”

“Well, of course. But he is currently giving other actors a shot at being a part of the show. And that’s why I am talking to you. Each actor that’s already in the production can put in recommendations for one actor that they think can fit a part. And I’ve decided to ask you.”

“I really thought that you would ask your sister to. I’m ashamed that you didn’t even think of her first.”

“She already got a part, though. She was hired before I was,” he laughed. “But you’re a shoe-in for one of these roles.”

Jean scratched the back of his neck. “You know I can’t do that, Eren. I have to be focused on James. He needs me to be here with him. It’s bad enough that I am barely here as it is. He’s being raised by the daycare.”

“And me, but apparently that’s not good enough to be considered on the list.”

“Alright, make your point before I get mad,” he muttered.

“If you think about it, it will be all worth it once it is all over,” he assured him. “You’ll have the money to do whatever you want! You can even quit that McDonald’s job and just stick back to acting again. I’m sure they will be flexible enough for you once they realize you have a kid.”

“I can’t tell them, and you know that, Eren!” He almost forgot to keep his voice down, and he hushed himself and curled up. “I don’t want him to be a part of that like I was. You know what it did to me.”

“Yeah, but things are different now. You know from your own experiences that being around Hollywood is no good for a kid. So just raise him right, and don’t get him too caught up in the whole hype with acting.”

“You say that as if it’s really that simple,” he muttered. “You really don’t understand what it’s like.”

“Listen, just give it a try,” he insisted. “Just one shot. Go to the audition, and if you don’t get the job, then I will never bother you about acting again. Okay? But if you do get it, just please promise me that you’ll stay with it. I really think that this gig will really be good for you and James.”

Jean was very reluctant, but he figured that Eren could be right. He really needed the money, and he shouldn’t be so stubborn about the whole thing. This really was his one shot in order to have the money and stability to keep his son. “Okay. Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Awesome,” he grinned on the other end. “Now, your audition is Friday at 5. I arranged it so that it wouldn’t interfere with your job.”

“Well, with the way things are right now, I don’t think that my schedule will be consistent.” He laughed at that his own words. “Well, if I haven’t sold my soul to Ronald McDonald by then, I’ll try to make it.”

“Sounds great. I’ll let the director know. He’s really excited to have you come in.”

“He already knows that you chose _me?_ ”

“When I told him that I was friends with you, he almost lost his shit. You’re probably going to be the best-known actor in the cast.”

“We don’t know for sure if I’m actually going to take the job though, Eren.”

“Oh I know,” he said. “And I told him that, but he has his hopes up really high now.”

Jean shrugged. “I’m a man of my word, so I’ll give it just this one shot.”

“Okay. Thank you for this,” Eren replied. “I’ll send you the script tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, Eren.”

Jean hung up after that. As soon as the high from the conversation ended, he truly realized just what he was going to be getting himself into. Did he honestly think that after dealing with the hell of transitioning from Hollywood life to reality he would want to be sucked into that environment again?

He turned off the TV and got up to head off to bed. “Alright. Maybe this will be a good experience.”

—

 _The room was packed with people._ That was the only that Jean could describe the chaos of that Friday evening. It seemed that a lot of people preferred later audition appointments, not that he’d blame them. He just hoped that Eren would be alright with James.

He had an audition number in his hand: 194. One hundred ninety-three people had come in before him, and the thought of all the high hopes set on just one person out of the first two hundred was unnerving. He didn’t think that there could be this much pressure or competition for just a few roles.

“I’d be perfectly happy if we just get roles as extras,” someone next to him said nervously. “That would be just as great.”

193 just came out of the audition room. They had a pretty confident look on his face, so Jean figured that maybe the directors probably found someone else to fawn over for the bigger roles. He was going to take 202’s advice and be perfectly fine with a role as an extra. That wouldn’t be so bad.

“194?” he heard them call. Jean got up and fixed his shirt before holding his number. His script was folded in his hand as he gingerly knocked on the door. He didn’t know how proper he should be towards his possible future employers. He didn’t get an answer though, so he just entered the room.

“Good evening,” he called and went to the center of the small stage. There was the director in the center, the producer, and the casting director. And they were all looking at him intently—save for the casting director, who was looking at his resume.

“Alright, state your name please.” The director glanced over the casting director’s shoulder.

“Jean,” he answered. “Jean Kirschtein?”

“ _The_ Jean Kirschtein?” The director perked up. “Eren told me that you would be coming in, and—”

“Please, no bias here,” Jean pressed. “There are hundreds of other actors looking for a good part in your production as well.”

“Oh, of course.” The producer shuffled papers while the director cleared his throat. “Alright, you may begin. I think we know enough about your past experiences in acting already.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” That honestly made him very uncomfortable, but he cleared his throat. He didn’t look at his script and left it at his side. He memorized his audition lines during breaks at work. “So, I start at the introduction of my lines?”

“Yes,” the casting director responded. “You shall read John Keller’s lines, the director Mike will read Mika’s, and I will read Aaron’s.”

“Okay.” Jean took a deep breath. After a moment of recollecting himself, he read his memorized lines. “Why are you so willing to risk your life fighting the enemy?”

“And why are you so willing to sit back and do absolutely nothing? Don’t you even have a will to fight?”

Right away when he read his lines, he thought of his character being an upper class, smug, naïve young man. So he was willing to play the part as such. With that, he smirked after chuckling under his breath. “My will to fight is within the walls defending the inner cities. There is much more to life than wasting it all dying, trying to fight a fight that you can’t possibly win.”

“And there is more to life than sitting back and drinking wine while everyone around you suffers and starves!” the casting director frowned as they read the lines. “You are a fool for abusing your power by doing nothing for the cause!”

“And you’re a damn fool for planning on joining the suicide brigade,” Jean muttered, a façade of conceit dripping off his tongue. “That’s going to be one small funeral, my friend.”

“Yeah, you can go fuck yourself before I can consider you a friend of mine.”

“Aaron,” the director quickly snapped, reading the other character’s lines. “This is not a battle worth fighting. Or wasting your energy on.”

“Someone like him does not deserve to train for the cause. Privileged brat.”

After Aaron’s next lines were read off, Jean waited a moment before crossing his arms and chuckling. “I wouldn’t be so quick to insult after we took you crummy people into our city and let you steal our food.”

“Alright, that’s it! Your face will look pretty scraped against the wall.”

The director held the script closer to his face. “Hold your own, Aaron.”

“Oh no, let him try and fight. That’s just what he wants to do.”

The casting director still read the other lines. “You do not deserve to live for not wanting to fight for humanity!”

Jean chuckled in response. “Humanity is a lost cause. The sooner that you realize that, the better.”

“Okay.” The producer cut the three of them off after Jean ended his next lines. “I think we have heard enough today. Thank you.”

Jean froze. “Wait, there are still more people you need to consider.”

“Oh, we know. That’s just the end of your segment. I just gotta say that you are so far the only person that actually didn’t have to look at their script. I need more people like you on our set.”

“You should give the others a chance. There are more roles that you still need after all, correct?”

“Of course,” the director insisted. “You will find out your results by notice in the mail. Thank you so much for coming in.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and waved. “You guys did pretty well with those lines yourselves. And have a good night.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.

Everyone that was still waiting for their audition number to be called stared at Jean intently. They obviously realized who he was, and he could see it in the way their eyes followed his every step. He didn’t like how much power he already had, and it’d been five years since he last had a role in Hollywood. That was probably the one thing that he didn’t like about being back in this atmosphere.

But he had to admit, he had really missed the rush of an audition.

—

 _Flipping burgers for eight hours straight_ had become a regular occurrence for Jean, but he accepted that fate after a while of the same-old, same-old. After he’d upset Marco right before an audition, he didn’t spend much time in his natural element on the job. But as if by some kind of miracle, someone had called for him to come up front while Connie switched with him.

“Freedom,” he gasped blissfully.

“Don’t get too excited, kiddo,” Mina chuckled as she was making drinks. “You’re up front because we’re down a cashier during peak. Take orders, please.”

“Of course.” Now this he could definitely do without fucking it all up. He was experienced in taking orders.

And taking them was a breeze, indeed. He was able to get lobby cleared quicker than he’d expected, with little complaints. Probably because there was a decent grill team in the back eagerly making their food in just the right amount of time to do it in.

Now this was where he liked to be. The grill area was not the place for him. He always messed up, and he hated how hot it always was back there. Save for the crucial moments were perspiration was inevitable, he loved the refreshing sensation of being on the front line.

As the shift went on, he was soon to realize that the day was quickly going to turn sour. He’d seen this putrid old woman here before, but he never had the disadvantage of actually taking her cursed order.

“Give me a double cheeseburger, _no_ ketchup. Every time I come here they always put ketchup on it.”

He saw his coworkers make her sandwich every single day. They never put ketchup on her burger. Jean run it up, adding “no ketchup” like the woman asked. “Okay, anything else?”

“Did you put no ketchup?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, acting as polite as he possibly could. “Now, would you like anything else?”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk back to your elders, young man,” she muttered and looked at the menu. For a solid minute. He was going to get yelled at for how ridiculous these times were already, and he could feel it. “And a senior diet Coke. No ice.”

“Okay.” He rung it up. “Anything else?”

“Did you put no ice on there?”

“Yes.” He was running out of patience. “Okay, for here or to go?”

“For here,” she said.

Lobby was filling up once again, and he was stuck with this one woman that was _still_ counting change like she had all day to while he waited to take her money. She ended up giving him a five dollar bill, which he was ready to put in his drawer. Then she had the nerve to...

“Oh, I have the change.”

He saw it in her hand and grimaced. “Ma’am, I’m okay. I got it from here.”

“Take the change.” She was awfully rude about it.

It wasn’t even the right amount of change that he needed. Now he felt really bad. He barely passed arithmetic, and that was with a tutor he had while he was acting. He tried his best and then handed her the change. “I sure hope this is right,” he said softly, not wanting to be short money.

“Well, you should know,” the woman snapped.

He felt his heart tinge with sudden anxiety. God, he hated this woman. He just got her food quietly.

“Is this no ketchup?” the woman then frowned.

It had a sticker on it.

“I’m sure it is, ma’am,” Jean said, running out of patience.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” she mumbled.

He desperately wanted to say such god-awful obscenity to her. But he kept his mouth shut, just wanting her out of here. She was so grossly preserved that she was stinking up the whole front counter. He then gave her the diet soda, making sure not to put ice in the cup. “Alright, you are all set.”

“Is there no ice?”

“Ma’am, you saw me make it,” he said. He opened the lid. “See? No ice.”

“I’ve had enough with this horrible service.” She was so fucking bitter! She then walked away with her tray after he closed the lid to her drink.

“If you really have such a problem with the people that work here, then don’t bother coming back here anymore, you nasty bitch.”

Did... he just say that out loud?

She turned right around so fast. “Where is your manager?!”

He didn’t think that he actually said his thoughts aloud! This was one of his problems, and he got fired from places for this all the time. This was not going to end well.

Mina knew shit was about to go down, so she stayed about her business, having to yell at drive-thru to keep track of how many fries the had in their vats for the ongoing customers.

Just so happened that Marco was on shift as well. As if this couldn’t get any worse. It didn’t take long for him to come up to the counter.

“What seems to be the problem, Madame?” he asked politely.

“You would let this behavior go on during your shift? You should be ashamed of yourself, letting this man be around customers!”

“Of course,” he said apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry. I will take action right away,” he insisted.

“You’d better.” She gave them both such a disgusting glare before going to find a seat.

Jean lowered his head. He was so fired.

Marco tapped his shoulder. “In the back.”

Jean followed closely behind, looking so nervous. This was it. This was the end of his short-lived reign as a model father for his son. When Hanji hears about this, they are going to flip out on him for sure.

“I know, I’m fired,” he said finally and looked up at Marco. “It was nice knowing you.”

“Fired?” he chuckled. “I’ve been wanting to give that lady my two cents for _years_. I like how bold you are, but... please, don’t do that again in front of the customers like that. This is a family environment.”

That was completely unexpected. “Of course... so, I’m... _not_ fired?”

“No. Levi says you’re one of the strongest morning workers on staff. He’d die if we lost you,” he sighed. “But I do have to give you a week’s suspension.”

“I’m suspended?” Well, that was much better than getting fired. “Alright. But if I cursed out a customer, that’s definitely something worth getting fired for if Levi sees the report.”

“I know,” Marco sighed. “Well, you’re suspended for right now. And I guess let’s hope it’s not any worse then that.”

“Yeah. I really need this job.” He sighed heavily. “Thank you for not firing right away. Even though I really don’t deserve a suspension as my punishment...”

“Well, I’m in a really good mood today,” Marco said with a smile.

He grabbed his bag. “So, what’s got you so perky, Marco?”

“I got a call back for a part in a Netflix show. The director said that he really liked my performance. And that’s something much better than a stuffy play where I’d end up dying anyways.”

He stared at his manager with this new-found admiration. “Congrats to you. What’s the part?”

“I have a call back for John Keller in Humanity’s Greatest.”

Jean blinked. That was the part he auditioned for. Now he really hoped that Marco got that character instead of him now. “Well, good for you. Good luck when you go back there then.”

“I’m... guessing you know about the show then?”

He nodded. “My best friend is the lead.”

Marco looked unnerved for a second. “I see. Well, go home. You’d better get going before that woman comes back and starts yelling at _me,_ now.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He clocked out. He was surprised at how well he was taking the fact that he just got a week’s suspension. Probably because he just eased out of getting fired.

He took James out of daycare. He was trying to catch up on payments now that he was getting more paychecks. But he still wasn’t fully paid off. His son was just so happy that his papa was home early. He was never going to tell him why, though. He wanted his son to continue living in bliss, like a normal child should. He deserved that much.

He just hoped that this wouldn’t make them behind in their bills.

As he got the mail from downstairs, he was prepared to make lunch for James when the phone rang. He looked up and answered, putting his envelopes down on the counter. “Yeah?”

“You’re home already?” It was Eren.

He hissed under his breath. “Yes. I am.”

“Damn, what the hell happened?”

“I can’t talk about it right now,” Jean sighed. “After James goes to bed, okay?”

 “Okay, okay. Did you check your mail yet?”

“Nah, not yet. Just got home.”

 “Alright, fine,” Eren said. He sounded excited. “But you really should check your mail, Jean.”

“Why, what’s up?” Jean looked through it. It was pretty much the same things as always. Bills, bills, and more bills that still weren’t even close to being completely paid off yet. But the one letter did perk his interest. It was from the studio he had the audition at two weeks ago. “I got a letter from the director.”

“Okay I can’t keep it in any longer!” Eren suddenly gasped. “You got a call back!”

“I-I what?” he stammered. “A call back?” He quickly opened the letter so that he could see for himself.

“Yes, you did! I told you that you were definitely a shoe-in!”

As Jean read the letter, his heart rate spiked at a dangerous rate. But suddenly his face fell. “Oh no...”

“What do you mean, ‘oh no?’ You’re definitely going to get this part!”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But it’s just the call back that I got that’s not good.” He read the name of his character that was written in bold letters. **John Keller.** “Marco’s got one for him too.”

“Your manager?”

“Yep.”

Eren paused. “Oh... Oh shit.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jean sighed heavily and stared at the letter. “I’m so gonna get fired now.”


	4. Fair Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call backs are always a rough time for everyone, but it even rougher if the race to the top is not fair on both sides. On many factors.

_"So go and challenge me, take the reins and see  
_ _Watch me squirm baby, but you are just what I need._

 _And I've never played a fair game_  
I've always had the upper hand"  


_\- Fair Game,_ Sia

* * *

 _The apartment’s atmosphere was filled with_ a euphoric sense of achievement. Marco got the call back after his boyfriend had suggested going in to audition for the part of John Keller. And tonight, as the couple sat on the couch, there was nothing else on his mind.

“This part is going to get me to the big leagues,” he grinned. “It’s what I’ve always _dreamed_ of, Daz!”

“Yes, I know,” he chuckled and watched him. He poured them both a glass of their celebratory alcohol. “But remember, this is just a call back. You’re on the show, definitely. But you might not get that part.”

“I know what a call back is,” he frowned and took a sip from his glass. “I wasn’t involved in theatre for over twelve years for nothing, you know.”

“I know, I’m just reminding you.”

He rolled his eyes and got up. “Way to spoil my fun, Daz.”

“What did I say?” He got up. “You can still keep your hopes up. It’s not like I’m trying to bring your spirits down. I’m just being honest.”

“Yes, and that kind of honesty is not something that boosts my morale.” He put his glass down on the counter when going in the kitchen. “I’m sorry… Maybe I’m just a little tense. I mean, this is my first big chance since we graduated.”

“I know.” He moved closer to him. “I’m proud of you.”

The sincerity in his voice brought a smile to Marco’s face. “Aww thanks, babe.” He wrapped his arms around his neck. “And I’m proud of you too. Now we can both be on the same show.”

“Yeah, I just realized that,” he grinned. “We can spend more time with each other, on and off the screen.”

They gave each other a brief kiss, and after their drinks they went off to bed. Still settled in their newfound bliss, they were caught in a brief, but powerful wave of passion. Their hearts pounded in time while they were in this whirlwind, and limbs tangled in between the sheets. But come to think of it, Marco found the word that he could best describe their sex to be a little bit off-putting: clockwork. That just reminded him of routines, always the same. Mechanic.

However he did not let that bother him. They had their nights when although a bit more excitement was expected in the mind than when it finally comes out of the drawing board and put into practice.

As he resurfaced from the hot, thick air, with lips still trailing down his neck, he relaxed in the sheets and let himself get lost in the tide. He had some things on his mind, but those can wait until morning. Tomorrow he had a very busy day ahead of him, already jam-packed for preparing for the call back for pretty much the biggest role in his life.

\--

_“Daz, what is my angle here?”_

“C’mon babe, you know what your angle is,” Daz smiled. “You’re up against this kid—the lead—that wants to step on your pride. And you’re trying to make him get his head out of the clouds.”

“That’s not a very good angle,” he sighed.

“But the part you’re trying to get involves an upper class snob.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I like this character.”

“Marco. It’s an acting job.” He looked down at his own copy of the script. “None of this is real, and no one on the set is going to think that you really are an upper class snob.”

“I’m a manager at McDonald’s. I’m the furthest thing from upper class.”

“See?” he grinned.

Marco didn’t really take that as a compliment. “Very funny.” He got up and threw his script back down on the coffee table.

“Babe, what do you expect me to do to motivate you?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “This part is harder than I thought it would be.”

“I know. But this isn’t anything different than your other parts.”

As he went off to the bedroom Marco gathered up his work clothes as he listened to him. “I sure hope so. The call back is tomorrow, and I’m not ready.”

“You’ve got this, baby,” Daz insisted. “You’re the best actor I’ve ever met. Besides me, of course,” he teased.

He shook his head and laughed. “Why, thank you.” He then fixed his tie and went out into the living room. “What do you think?”

Daz looked up and rubbed his chin. “I think that your angle is… you’re on your way to work at McDonald’s and deal with assholes.”

“That’s my job,” he grinned and playfully shoved his arm. “Do I look good?”

“Always.” He leaned up and kissed him. “You have a great day.”

“You too. Now, practice your lines like the good actor I know you are.”

“Oh, I’d never disappoint you!” He called after him as his boyfriend went to leave. “Love you!”

“I love you too.” Marco was pretty sure that after the door closed, Daz probably chucked his script and went to play Game of War on his phone.

However, what he didn’t tell Daz was that since he knew it was going to be getting an acting job regardless, he was already planning on quitting his job at McDonald’s. His goals were as high as his confidence. After spending seven years flipping burgers, it was definitely time to move on. Plus he knew that there were going to be much more chances for him now that he finally cracked his way into show business.

When he got into work for his shift he clocked in like usual. Then he went into the back and in the small office next to the stock room. It felt really weird having to do this, but he knew that it was the right thing. He wanted to have some closure. He pinned his note right onto the board, and he kept it very simple.

“This is my two weeks’ notice.  
\- Marco Bodt.”

“There.” He sighed shakily. “Within the next day or so, everyone will know.”

The day continued after that. He figured that no one had even noticed. Not that he really cared that they did, of course. He didn’t.

The first person that did however was someone that he didn’t expect to even care.

Jean had come in to check if he got his hours back on next week’s schedule. He didn’t, and that started to worry him. Sure, he was suspended, but he should have gotten back on the roster by now. After he had received that dissatisfaction, there was something else that caught his eye. That of course was Marco’s two weeks’ notice.

So he came out to confront him. He knew about his call back, but he also knew that his decision was careless.

“You’re leaving, Marco?”

Production seemed to stop for a minute there. Jean didn’t expect to be that loud when announcing it, and in that instant all eyes were on Marco.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. I put my two weeks in, and I’m going to leave.”

“So you found a better job?”

“I did,” he nodded. “I’m working for that new Netflix show. You know that.”

“Yeah, and what about something to fall back on? Isn’t that what a job like this is supposed to be?”

“I don’t need anything to fall back on,” Marco insisted. “I’ve spent years trying to find a break as big as this one, and after this I can finally move on to bigger and better performances.”

“Get your head out of the clouds, Marco!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to shit on your whole parade here, but you have to have options. There always has to be a Plan B, because if Plan A fails, and you don’t have anything to keep you afloat, you’ll drown! That’s how show business really works, Marco.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re a washout like every other child actor from your era. And you can’t take that there is someone out there that can actually earn their keep in Hollywood.”

“I am _not_ a washout!” That remark made him angry. “And I will prove that to you tomorrow, when I get the part of John Keller!”

Marco had no idea that he auditioned in the first place. His blood began to boil. “Of course you mean _if_ you get the part, right? You better keep your hopes down, because there is going to be a new star in town!”

“You’re right. With the way you’re acting, you’re a shoe-in for the part.” With that final remark, Jean left. He had more important things to do than argue with him further.

Meanwhile Marco was exasperated by this. If he didn’t already decide that he was leaving this place, he would’ve made sure that Jean lost this job. He’d probably find another one within a few days, with the way he seemed to hop from job to job.

That was none of his business, though.

\--

 _On the day of call backs_ , Marco made sure to get rid of any nerves that were trying to creep into his conscience. He had to admit that he was a little intimidated now that he knew Jean was here today for the same exact thing. He’d better get this part, so that he could show Jean he definitely could do it.

Everyone at work knew he was leaving now, and Levi was not too happy about that. He didn’t really blame him, considering that he had been there for so long and gotten this far in his fast food career. But they both knew that deep down it was time to move on anyways.

Daz did not come with him today, and he understood why. He already had his part on the show. He didn’t want to stress him out by bringing him back into that audition-type atmosphere. He knew how much the tension freaked him out. Despite that, he wished that his boyfriend was here to help him calm his nerves. That was what he really needed right now. He tried texting him while he waited to go in for his turn, but he didn’t get a single reply. He was probably just busy.

Actor after actor went in and out of the room. Now that there weren’t as many of them, he could now focus on what his remaining competition was. All of them looked pretty confident, especially the one that probably was going to get served this part on a platter. Jean was sitting right by the door to the audition room, not associating himself with anyone for whatever reason.

 _Probably too arrogant to talk to people that he thinks don’t have a chance,_ he pessimistically thought to himself.

He’d developed quite a distaste for him since he’d first started working at McDonald’s with him, because of how many times he always tried to shut down his acting dream. It was as if he didn’t want him to succeed. Probably jealously.

Jean went into the room before him, and he still sat there with a couple of others. He was surprised to find that one of the people that auditioned was Connie, a former coworker. He’d quit after people started and continued to disrespect him at the store.

“Hey, I didn’t think you wanted to go for Hollywood.”

“There’s a lot that you guys didn’t know about me,” he shrugged after they got to talking a little more. “You guys are all making this room cold with your tension.”

“I suppose,” he shrugged. “So, which part are you here for?”

“A character named Colton Schultz. I did some research in the cast listing, and apparently the producer refers to him regularly as a ‘comic relief character,’” he frowned and rolled his eyes. “Kind of ironic.”

“Yeah,” he agreed half-heartedly. He had no idea what he meant by that.

“Number twenty-four?” That was Connie’s number.

“Okay, that’s me. Adios,” he sighed out as he stood up. “Buena suerte.”

“Same to you,” he waved after Connie left. He crossed his legs after Jean walked out of the same room. When he started to approach, Marco crossed his arms. “What, you’re going to wish me good luck now? You already got the part.”

“Don’t say that,” he sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “I suppose I can forgive you,” he said. “But sorry doesn’t make up for how much what you said hurt.”

Jean shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying to apologize. I guess I’m just... a little worried. You’re right, you know. I shouldn’t have pushed so much onto you because of my past experiences. After all, every actor’s career is different.”

“True,” he mused. “Well, thank you. And I hope that whatever part you get after this, it’s a good one.”

“Same to you,” he insisted. “Really, I’m sure you’re going to do great.”

“Thanks.” His number was then called. But by the time he got up from his seat and went to address Jean again, he was already gone. “Wow...” he frowned and went to get this audition over with. At this point, he was just glad to be getting some kind of part in the show at this point.

The producer was the first to have his eyes on him. Kenneth Ackerman. His judgment was always much harsher than the director and casting director’s.

“How are you guys doing this afternoon?” he greeted nervously, wanting to break the ice.

“We’re doing pretty well, thank you,” the casting director responded politely. Nanaba leafed through their papers for a moment. “Alright, you’re aware of what lines you have to read today, and we have the two actors that originally got the other characters you’re in the scene with.”

As if on cue, a man and a woman entered from another door, and he recognized them within an instant. Mikasa Ackerman—no relations with the producer—was best known for her works involving hand-to-hand combat. And of course her brother Eren Jaeger was one of the few actors from Jean’s era that still survived after childhood. He knew from Daz that pretty big names were going to be in this series, but he didn’t think that Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman were among them!

“O-oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he started to stammer as he introduced himself.

“No need for the formality,” Mikasa insisted. “We’re both pretty confident that you got this.”

Meanwhile, Eren was a little less orthodox. “ _You’re_ that manager Marco that Jean told me about!”

His blood ran cold. Eren was friends with Jean? His whole audition was probably rigged now!

“Hey, keep that blood pressure low,” Eren then grinned. “It’s alright. Let’s get this rolling, shall we?”

The director peered over. “Are you three ready now?”

Marco shook out whatever anxiety remained. He nodded his head. “Yes.”

The other two actors nodded as well.

“Alright,” Mike smiled. “You may begin.”

Marco took another deep breath before pulling out this cocky grin, getting ready for his part. “Why are you so willing to risk your life fighting the enemy?”

Eren’s head tilted while his arms crossed challengingly. “And why are you so willing to sit back and do absolutely nothing? Don’t you even have a will to fight?”

Marco tried to be as confident as possible for his part, but it didn’t help that normally he was the complete opposite in real life. “My will to fight is within the walls defending the inner cities. There is much more to life than wasting it all dying trying to fight a fight that you can’t possibly win.”

“And there is more to life than sitting back and drinking wine while everyone around you suffers and starves!” Eren frowned and stepped closer. “You are a fool for abusing your power by doing nothing for the cause!”

“And you’re a damn fool for planning on joining the suicide brigade.” Marco’s voice made it sound like he was taunting him more than anything. “That’s going to be one small funeral, my friend.”

“Yeah, you can go fuck yourself before I can consider you a friend of mine.”

“Aaron,” Mikasa then snapped quickly. “This is not a battle worth fighting. Or wasting your energy on.”

Eren sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he took a step back, recollecting himself for his part in the scene. “Someone like him does not deserve to train for the cause. Privileged brat.”

Marco ran a hand through his hair. That was more of a shy gesture than anything else, but he counteracted it with a light chuckle. “I wouldn’t be so quick to insult after we took you crummy people into our city and let you steal our food.”

“Alright, that’s it!” He rolled up his sleeves angrily. “Your face will look pretty scraped against the wall.”

Although at the time he was ashamed to admit this, Marco was definitely nervous by his actions and started to cower back. But Eren’s sister brought him back into focus.

Mikasa then quickly grabbed his shoulder to hold him back. “Hold your own, Aaron.”

“Oh no, let him try and fight. That’s just what he wants to do,” he smirked, regaining his character.

“You do not deserve to live for not wanting to fight for humanity!” Eren’s eyes sparked with the vengeance an audience definitely would expect to see.

Marco was very moved by this. “Humanity is a lost cause. The sooner that you realize that, the better.” It didn’t sound as conceited as he hoped it would.

“And, that’s the end of the scene before Mika drags Eren off over her shoulder, so we’re clear,” the producer said quickly. “Thank you for your performance.”

He was thrown off by how quickly the mood changed once the audition was over. Marco nodded briskly. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You will see your result via e-mail by Saturday,” Nanaba then assured him. “You did well. I’ll hope to see you real soon.”

“Yes. Thank you.” He waved at them and left the room. As soon as the door closed, he was about ready to punch the wall. He knew that he probably didn’t get it. Judging by the confidence in Jean’s posture earlier, he most definitely got the part of John Keller. Before he was probably just comforting him sympathetically. That was the only explanation he could come up with.

Or maybe he was just too worked up about this audition to admit that maybe he was just overreacting about this whole thing. Most likely the latter.

—

 _Jean was so relieved to find_ out that he still had his job at McDonald’s, and at least now he could work in the drive-thru handing out orders now instead of taking them. It was at least a step further up from flipping burgers in the kitchen. Meanwhile Marco had been counting down the days he had remaining at his job here. Jean still felt like he made a very poor decision by choosing to quit his job here now that he had an acting job. Jean would never put himself through such chaos when he had a child to provide for.

It was that unknown feeling that he hated the most. He couldn’t stand not having a Plan B, and to him, acting was his Plan B. Plan A was to finally get his GED and try to move up further in life for a steadier income. It was hard to find a corporate job, especially since he had a reputation in Los Angeles for being a major job hopper.

That didn’t seem to stop people from hiring him, though.

Daycare was getting much more expensive now that the owner was really hounding on him for payments. He really tried to make ends meet with them, but with missing so many days from his suspension and only having enough money to pay his utilities, it was difficult to keep up. He was still under threat of James getting kicked out of there and even taken away from him for good, so he was even considering getting a third job on top of McDonald’s and Humanity’s Greatest. He didn’t know how the production’s payroll worked, and at this point it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn’t care how tired it would make him.

As long as he could keep and provide for his baby, nothing else in the world mattered to him.

His shift felt surprisingly long. He felt like three o’clock couldn’t come any sooner. The more he anticipated going home to his son, the longer the shift, probably. But he couldn’t get himself to focus on his job enough to get his son out of his head for just a few hours. That was impossible.

When he was finally told that he could go home, he clocked out and left right away. He took his hat off and rushed through the streets of San Fernando Valley to try and get to the daycare. When he skidded to a stop right in front of the door, he was alarmed to see that his son was sitting on the porch, his hand above his head to try and block out the sun. He rushed and knelt down to his level.

“James?” he gasped. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” He rubbed his back and looked around. “Where is Ms. Peters?”

His son looked nervously up his father. “Inside with the other kids,” he said softly. “Papa, Biwwy said coyotes are gonna come and eat me.”

“Oh, they would never,” he insisted gently and stroked his hair. “You’re way too sweet.”

His son finally managed to smile.

Jean kissed his hair and held him for a moment longer. “Give me one second, okay? I’m gonna go and have a talk with Ms. Peters.”

“Don’t weave me awone!” he whined and gripped his leg.

“It’s okay, I promise. Just wait right by the door. I’ll be right out,” he promised and got up to his feet. He didn’t care about courtesy. He stormed inside the daycare center like it was nothing.

The owner, Ms. Peters, looked far from pleased to see him. “Mr. Kirschtein—”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of fucking shit joint you’re running here, but even if I was one payment behind or thirty, you don’t leave a child alone out there! Is this some kind of goddamn natural selection to you?!”

There was a short pause for a moment there. “Mr. Kirschtein, your son is not allowed back at this daycare center anymore.”

He was baffled. “Wait. You said I had until June. It’s only March! I’ve been sending checks to you to pay back best I can!”

She crossed her arms. “There’s no hope for you, Mr. Kirschtein. I changed my mind.”

“The fuck does that mean?!” He was outraged. “I just paid you six hundred dollars to pay for the past couple months. I _gave_ you the check, Ms. Peters!”

If looks could kill…

“Yeah. About that check, Mr. Kirschtein.” She then pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. It was his check, but what was stamped on it in bold letters made his blood run cold: **NSF.**

“...It bounced?” he stammered. “How the hell can it bounce? There’s nine hundred in my account! Two hundred in my savings!”

“Well apparently the nine hundred and two hundred are in the minus region, because according to this, you have a ton of bullshit in your bank account.”

He stepped back nervously. “This isn’t possible... I made sure there was money in the bank before writing that check to you!”

“Don’t ever bring your son to this daycare center, Mr. Kirschtein. Unless if you want the public to know that you’ve become such a washed out dead beat that can’t earn his keep.”

Such harsh words clawed out of her throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything back in a confident enough response. He kept his head down, showing he had been defeated in a fight that he should’ve known he couldn’t win. “I apologize for how bold I was. I won’t bring him here anymore. You have my word.”

“Smart boy,” she hummed, glancing up to see James hiding behind the open door. “Good day, Mr. Kirschtein.”

“Good day...” He went out of the daycare and slowly took James’ hand. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his six hundred dollar check bounced. He had his finances planned for the next three months, which allowed each bill to be paid on time, with enough money left over to make a payment to Ms. Peters. How could it have bounced? It definitely wasn’t supposed to.

“What’s the matter, Papa?” James squeezed his hand. “Are we going home?”

He took a deep breath. “We have to take a quick stop at the bank first. Then we’ll go home, okay?”

His face beamed happily. “Okay. Can we have ice cweam first?”

“We’ll see,” he assured him gently. He was on his way to the bank, hoping that he could figure out what the problem was. Thankfully when he finally got there, there wasn’t a line inside.

When it was his turn though, the place seemed to fill up with angry people. He didn’t seem to care about how they felt at all at this point.

“Hello, I would like to check the funds in my accounts,” he said shakily as he held his son’s hand.

“Name?” the teller mumbled.

“Jean Kirschtein...”

The bank teller looked like they were skimming through files. They wore such a frown on their face that Jean thought it was stuck on their face like that forever. When they looked up again, his breath got caught in his throat. “To verify your account, tell me your phone number.”

He did slowly. This one person behind him was getting antsy and possibly shooting James dirty looks. He could tell by the way he felt his son’s arms tighten around his leg.

“Papa... Up,” he then heard him whimper.

Jean looked down and sighed softly as James reached out to him. He crouched down and picked him up, holding him close in his arms. “God, you’re getting heavy.”

While James hid his head in his neck, the bank teller was waiting for his attention. He stood straight, very anxious.

“There’s insufficient funds in your account,” they said. “Zero balance in checking, zero balance in savings.”

He almost dropped his son as his heart slammed down to his stomach. “How is there zero? I have direct deposits with my job. Every check comes straight to my account.”

“That’s great, pal. Some of us aren’t as lucky!” the man behind him growled. “Now, move aside so that the rest of us can actually put money in our accounts!”

He ignored him and tightened his hold on his son. “How can there be insufficient funds then?” He addressed the teller.

“Do you have your debit card and check book on your person?”

“Of course. Everywhere I go, I have them both with me.” He took his wallet out of his pants pocket while he held James in his other arm. He showed the teller his check book, but when he went to get his card out, he was shocked to find that it wasn’t in its place. “Wait... where’s my card?”

Jean began to panic as he went through his wallet. There was no card. He even put James down to try and check his other pockets. Somewhere, anywhere! No card.

He must’ve dropped it somewhere. But where? When? It didn’t take long to realize that it was stolen.

“Shit!” He cursed as he kicked the edge of the counter. It startled his son, but he was too angry and upset to notice. He anxiously looked at the teller. “Can I freeze my card? The account? Anything to keep this crook from stealing my money?”

“What money?” the person behind him snorted. “You don’t have a damn dollar to your name now.”

“Just shut up!” he snapped and turned around. To find that the person behind him was older, and a little bigger than he was. He stammered as he had to look up to give him eye contact.

“I’ve had enough of your mouth, pretty boy,” he snarled and grabbed him by the shirt. “I’m not afraid to rearrange it in front of everyone.”

“Gentlemen, none of us have time for your fighting,” the teller remarked. “But Mr. Kirschtein, I can freeze your account activity and open up a new card for you.”

“What good will that do? I’ll just get that new card stolen and go bankrupt again,” he sighed. “Fuck that.” He moved away from the other man and out the line. He took James’ hand and rushed out of the bank while making sure he was behind him.

He was about ready to cry. Who knows what other checks have bounced since he tried paying his bills. He couldn’t believe that this happened to him.

“Papa...” His son called as he tried keeping up with his quick pace. “Papa, my feet hurt.”

“We’re almost home,” he muttered. “Then we can have dinner and you can watch your shows.” They might not even be able to, if the electric bill’s check bounced as well.

“But Papa...” James frowned and squeezed his hand. “Papa can we still have ice cweam?”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood to spend five minutes waiting for someone to get three dollars’ worth of a frozen dessert when I have no money?!” He raised his voice as he stopped walking and looked at his son. “No! We’re going home, so stop asking me!”

He could see the tears in James’ eyes and such a hurt, scared look on his face that broke his heart. But he had to stay strong enough to take them both home. He looked straight ahead, and his son didn’t talk anymore. He was fortunate enough to be close to the bus stop, and he hurried to catch up to it so that he could get on. It took the rest of his money in his wallet to buy the tickets. Now he was picked clean.

The two of them sat on the bus in silence, waiting to get off. It took several minutes before they got to the stop, and even then they had to walk for another six blocks before getting to the apartment building. He led James in, who was so worn out. He still didn’t talk to him.

Jean hoped that he could just get a tiny conversation going. “...Wanna watch your shows?” he mumbled. “I think Jake and the Neverland Pirates is on.”

James just sat on the couch and stared at the television. It definitely wasn’t a “no.”

He went to the TV and turned the power on, only to find that the screen was still black. “No...” He kept trying to turn on the power several more times. Nothing. He rushed to turn on the lamp. It was starting to get dark, and not even the faithful light of the kitchen ceiling fan worked. “Mother fucker!” He bit his knuckle and was itching to hit something but tried restraining himself because it scared James when he did that. “I was _never_ late on the electric! Seriously?!”

He ran to the refrigerator. The little food that he had in there was going to go bad within the next twelve hours, and he knew it. He also knew that he probably should call somebody, despite his stubbornness. But he never wanted to be a burden. He’d tried going this far on his own, and he wanted to get through his own hardships. He found that even the oven didn’t work either. He let out a hollow sounding laugh. He had to figure out how the hell he was going to feed James.

“This is bullshit!” He gripped the counter. “Why can things never go right?” He was losing control of his emotions, his voice hoarse as he tried holding back a sob.

Behind him James tried to inch closer. He grabbed a few envelopes that were on the floor by the door, and to make him feel better, he wanted to hand them to him and be a good helper for his father. “Papa...? Mail.”

Just the fact that James would still talk to him made him feel a little hopeful. He turned to him and gently took the letters out of his hands. “Thank you... Now just... sit tight, while I try to think of what to make for dinner.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m sowwy I made you mad, Papa.”

Jean quickly shook his head and knelt down. “Oh no—n-no, you didn’t make me mad, baby. Of course, you didn’t. Papa’s just really busy with a lot of grown-up problems. I’ll have it all fixed soon. You don’t have to be worried about anything, okay?” He stroked his hair slowly. “Be a kid. Please.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what the last part meant, but he nodded. “I will. I pwomise.”

He smiled and nuzzled his son’s cheek. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, James. I love you so much. Never forget that.”

“I wove you too.” Jean couldn’t get enough of the slurs in his words, although he knew eventually he was going to grow out of them. “I’ll go cwean my woom.” He then went down the hall.

He sighed softly and watched James leave. He stood up straight again and went to check his letters. Almost all of them were the same. “Insufficient funds. Insufficient funds. Insufficient funds.” It seemed that at least his cell phone bill and rent made it. He was so grateful for the rent money, now.

Then there was one letter that he knew he should have expected, but he almost didn’t want to see it. It was a letter from that studio. And he knew what this meant. It was the results from call backs. He was reluctant to open it, but he knew he really should. And he was going to... after he lit a couple candles to help him and his son see in the house.

While he was figuring out how to open the canned beans that were originally deep in his cabinet, he opened the letter in between. He pretty much was already giving up on the damned can opener at that point. But when he saw his copy of the casting list, he knew that he probably shouldn’t have decided to audition for the part of John Keller.

Because that was exactly who he got.

—

 _It wasn’t that Mark Babson was_ a terrible name for a character. It was just that it was not the right character that Marco was supposed to get. He looked at his results letter over and over again, to find that he was chosen to be one of the minor characters on the show. And of course Jean got the part of John Keller.

He knew it from the very beginning.

“Listen babe, getting Mark Babson really isn’t that bad,” Daz insisted over and over again.

But the more that he said it, the less truthful it sounded.

“But it is not the part that I originally auditioned for, Daz,” he sighed heavily. “This never happens. I _always_ get the lead.”

“Well Marco... You know that this is the real world. You just might be one of those actors that doesn’t get what they want right away. They have to work for it.”

“They only say things like that to actors that suck,” Marco snapped. “Your brutal honesty really isn’t something that I need right now.”

“Marco, what else do you want from me?” he sighed and got up. “I can’t fucking talk to you when you’re like this.”

“You don’t even try, Daz!” He shook and threw the letter aside. “Mom was right, I should’ve majored in International Affairs!”

“Stop being so dramatic! Why can’t you look at this from a brighter point of view?” he argued. “You’re so pessimistic, just be glad you even got a call back to begin with!”

“I’m just not used to this. And I really need a good part on this show, because it’s all I got!”

“What are you talking about?” Daz tilted his head. “You’ve got McDonald’s. It’s not really that bad as your temporary job.”

That was when he shamefully lowered his head.

“Oh my god…” He scratched his scalp. “Marco, you quit your job, didn’t you?”

“I thought for sure that after I do the part of John Keller, anyone would want to hire me!”

“Babe, you don’t do that!” He grabbed his hand. “Acting 101: Always have a back-up plan! You know this! And you were a _manager_ there!”

“I know, Daz!” His throat was tight. “I know… I just… I-I got caught in the moment. I don’t know what to do.”

“Go and get your job back.”

“I can’t do that,” he protested. “I already left the place. I walked out today.”

“Jesus Christ, Marco,” he frowned. “Okay… Okay, we need to think this over. You can still look for another job, okay? You probably won’t be getting paid as much as you did at McDonald’s—as weird as that is for me to say—but it’s something, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” he said nervously. “I’m sorry, Daz. I just really wanted to get my acting career started so badly.”

“I know you do. But we’ll make a Plan B, okay?” He kissed both his hands. “We’ll have something to fall back on.”

He nodded as he smiled shakily. “Yeah, thank god.”

Daz laughed and kissed his lips. “I love you, Marco.”

“Love you too,” he said softly and rubbed his arms. As soon as he was passed this wave of shock and anger, he could now get more excited about what it was going to be like on the set. “So, it’s right in Hollywood, right?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “And we start filming our scenes next week. We don’t appear until the third episode.”

“I’m totally fine with that,” he insisted with a smile. “I can’t wait, baby. We’re going to be famous, for sure.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” he smirked as he kissed him again.

They both sat right back down on the couch, grabbing their scripts. They had a lot of planning to do.

\--

 _Jean knew that shooting started next_ week at the studio, but now it was going to be very difficult to get to and from there without any money. And without anyone to watch James. This situation for him was not going to end well if he did not think of a way to earn extra money before next week.

He was crossing very thin lines with this. He couldn’t do anything too explicit, or Hanji will come and take James in a heartbeat. He couldn’t really expose himself either. So a stripping job was out of the question. However, there was one job he would be able to consider.

He took his wallet out, seeing that the only things left in it were business cards. He remembered that after he lost his job at that one club, there was another manager that met from a bar that he still refused to answer how he met him. He said that he was looking for waiters, and he was willing to do that under the table if it meant getting some extra cash.

He dialed his number and silently waited for him to answer. “Hello? Mr. Dok? This is Jean Kirschtein. Yes, I’m aware of what time it is, but I’m in need of another job. I’m really tight on money, and a few weeks is all I need… Of course, I’ll work the night shift….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, I may have went really overboard with this chapter. Considering that in a bout of insomnia I typed this all up in one night. I've been itching to get everything on here while I've had no internet for a few weeks and am now working nights at my job for the summer. And there might not be another chapter for a little while, because I'm working on a tiny project for this July's Camp NaNoWriMo.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading! And I'm sorry you have to put up with my angst-driven brain.


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